


The Sharpest Pieces

by cinderfell (orphan_account), turnjinx (orphan_account)



Series: Cocaine, Champagne, Gasoline (And Most Things In Between) [1]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: F/F, Fake AH Crew, Femslash February, GTA AU, Griffon's Ladies, Street Harassment, griffon's girl gang, lesbophobic slur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-05
Updated: 2016-02-05
Packaged: 2018-05-18 09:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5920246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/cinderfell, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/turnjinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a duality to Meg's nature that Barbara loved and feared.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Sharpest Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> my hand hurts from writing this over the course of two days rip kaity  
> anyways I love turndunk and you should join me

Meg was equal parts soft and sharp. It drove Barbara crazy with love and with worry, a lingering pit of fear for her partner that sat in the pit of her stomach while they worked. It crept into the back of her mind while she held her at night in the darkness of their dingy apartment, arms wrapped tightly around Meg’s torso as she breathed deeply with sleep. Meg was never troubled by dreams, or at least none that she shared with Barbara.  


Barbara couldn't say the same. There were nights she woke up in a cold sweat because she dreamed of Meg being taken from her. Sometimes it was death, her life cut short in a shoot-out or by an explosive gone wrong. Other nights it was more simple. She dreamed that she came home and Meg was just gone, her things all missing. She would tear open drawer and closets, rip apart their bed and kitchen for any sort of note. There was never anything there. Those were the ones that scared her the most. She could deal with the dreams of death because they worked under that pressure already. They chose to walk the thin line between life and death when they started working for Griffon. She wasn't as afraid of those because of that choice, that awareness. It was the concept that she might not be enough for Meg that scared her shitless.  


Meg was soft in the way that she loved Barbara. It was something tentative and gentle at first, a casual encounter that grew into something more as time went on. It started with a job for Griffon, as most things in the city did. Anything that wasn't directly related to Griffon and her Ladies was related to Geoff and the FAHC. If you managed to go a full forty-eight hours without running into something a Ramsey didn't have their hand in, you had probably wandered into the wrong city on accident.  


It had been a smaller job, one meant to blow off steam and rake in some extra cash between heists. Barbara was the driver for the job, waiting down the block for the signal. She had the van parked in front of a bakery, something that didn't help her impatience at all. She had a tendency to skip meals when she helped Griffon plan jobs and against her better judgement and Lindsay’s advice she had completely neglected to eat anything but Pringles for the two days before. It was coming back to bite her in the ass as she sat in the van, on the brink of dozing off from sleep exhaustion and hunger. All she wanted was a donut. One of those chocolate frosted ones with the raspberry filling. Caiti talked in a chipper voice in her earpiece about the layout of the shop and how close they were, her voice soothing like a lullaby. Barbara had almost nodded off when she heard Caiti’s change suddenly.  


“Barb, Meg and Griffon are done. Move up to the store!” That woke her up.  


Adjusting her cap, she practically floored it to the back alley of the store, taking the turn into it so sharply that it made her queasy. She had barely stopped before Meg had jumped into the passenger seat, backpack full of jewelry hanging off her shoulder. She yanked her beanie off, red hair spilling out over her shoulders as she frantically glanced from side to side, scanning the area for any movement. Griffon climbed into the back, struggling to pull up something big along with her. Whatever it was, she hoped it was worth a lot of cash.  


“Did you kill anybody?” Barbara asked quickly.  


“No, we just knocked the clerk ou-- fuck!” Barbara’s head snapped to wear Meg was looking. A man, presumably the clerk, stumbled out from the back door of the shop, half his face covered in blood from where Meg or Griffon had knocked him over the head. They hadn't hit him hard enough, obviously, because not only had he managed to pull himself back up and go after them but he remembered to grab his shotgun too.  


“Floor it!” Meg yelled, ducking down in her seat as the man room a potshot at the van.  


“Griffon!” Barbara begged, foot hesitating on the pedal. Griffon still hadn't fully pulled whatever she was taking with her in all the way, huffing as she lifted it.  


“Just drive!” Griffon barked, falling backwards from the weight of the object but managing to pull it inside. Barbara didn't have to hear that twice. She reversed out of the alley, leaving skid marks as she floored it. The van reflected the bullets nicely, leaving maybe a couple of dents here and there. Barbara made a mental note to thank Caiti for getting the van reinforced by one of her contacts. The last thing she needed was a bullet to the skull as she tried to do her job.  


Barb threw the wheel to the right, pulling them out onto the main street sharply and causing Griffon and her monster of a haul to slide and slam against the right hand side of the van. The boss let out a grunt as Barbara weaved quickly through traffic, trying to put as much distance between them and the store as possible. She pulled onto the highway as she tried to adjust the established route to the safe house to account for traffic, a black Cadillac blasting their horn at her as she darted out in front of them.  


Meg was talking animatedly to Caiti over her earpiece, shooting out questions. “You're sure Babs got us out of there fast enough? Uh-huh. And none of the other factions are interested in interfering, right? I know it’s a small job, but I’d really rather not get caught in some sort of shoot out with Fakehaus or anything. Not to mention the FAHC guys are pretty petty sometimes.” She glanced backwards at Griffon who was securing her haul--which Barbara could now see was an old chest--in the back. “No offence to your husband.”  


“Don’t worry,” Barbara could practically hear the smirk on Griffon’s face. “I love him dearly but Geoff is absolutely petty as shit.”  


Meg fiddled with a piece of hair, something Barbara knew was a nervous habit. “Well, I guess we're lucky this time. I fucked up with that clerk, I should've just shot him in the head.”  


“You did fine,” Barbara interjected as she merged lanes, glancing quickly back and forth between the redhead and the road. “We all make mistakes sometimes. Besides, murdering the guy would've made things harder for us.”  


“We’d have more time though,” she murmured under her breath. She seemed annoyed with herself, looking down at the pistol in her lap. “Caiti says the cops aren't even close to us, but if we hadn't had such a smooth exit despite him taking potshots at us, we might've been fucked.”  


“Sweetie, you did fine.” Griffon leaned forward from the back, putting her hand on Meg’s shoulder and giving it a little squeeze. Meg managed to turn and give her a small smile before letting it drop as she looked back out onto the road.  


The safe house was a little shop Caiti had secured for them a few months back. The windows had curtains drawn across it on the inside, the glass itself decorated with faded red words that once said Johanson Liquor. It had long since stopped being a liquor store, however the place still attracted drunks how would fiddle with the front door and sleep on the step to wait for it to open again. Luckily there weren't any when they pulled up. Barbara parked them in the little back alley behind it, tucking the van back in the corner closest to the back door.  


Meg didn't even wait her to stop all the way. She tucked her pistol away and hopped out of the van with her pack full of loot, making long strides to to the door. Or strides as long as her short legs would allow her at least. Making her decision, Barbara killed the engine and hopped out too, tucking the keys in her pocket and ignoring Griffon who let out a small “Hey!”  


“Hey,” She jogged over to Meg, grabbing her arm before she went into the house, fingers digging into the black fabric of the redhead’s sweater. Meg seemed almost in a daze, not immediately registering the hand on her arm and trying to take another step forward before meeting resistance and snapping back a step. She blinked, turning to look at Barbara with an inquisitive look.  


“What?”  


“You did really, really good Meg. Just,” she sighed, running her hand through her hair. “Just remember to try and stop being so hard on yourself. We all make mistakes sometimes. It's not the end of the world. One guy you didn't knock out right doesn't define your entire history with us. I mean, Hell, remember that time I almost ran over that ninety year old man a couple months back while I was trying to lose the cops? Now that’s a fuck up. But we learn from it, you know?”  


Meg didn't respond, instead just meeting her eyes with a frown and a biting her bottom lip. Barbara wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say. The way Meg looked at her made her feel lost. It was… strange. It was a confused, almost conflicted look. She opened her mouth, trying to find the words to fill the suddenly quiet space between them, but Meg beat her to it, lips meeting the blonde’s with a surprising amount of force.  


Barbara immediately pulled her head away and took a surprised step back, almost tripping backwards onto her ass. Her arms flailed as she tried to steady herself, locking her right foot behind the left to get a firm grip on the ground. Meg looked back at her, equally bewildered.  


“Fuck,” Meg hissed under her breath, reaching up to cover her mouth. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m so sorry. You were just… being so nice. So I just… I don’t know!” She dragged her hand up her face, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Babs.”  


The getaway driver looked down at her, her own hand hovering across her lips. It was… not something she had expected, honestly. Kissing Meg had never even occurred to her as something she'd want to do at some point in her life, much less after a messy little speech like that. Honestly? Women had never occurred to her at all. Not in that way. But suddenly it seemed like Meg had opened up a door to Barbara; one that had a flashing neon sign over it that said _surprise Dunkelman! You like girls! __  
_

She moved Meg’s hand away from her face, causing Meg to glance up at her in confusion. Then she leaned down, mouth pressing lightly against the shorter woman’s. Meg was frozen for a minute, making Barbara feel like she was trying to kiss a statue, before relaxing her entire body and taking a step closer. She pressed herself against Barbara, back arching slightly as she rocked forward onto her tiptoes so she could meet the kiss more easily. Fingers ran up through the blonde’s hair, lacing firmly around the back of her neck and pulling her down slightly. Barbara let her hands rest lightly on Meg’s waist, thumb rubbing circles against the sliver of flesh that popped out from between the hem of her shirt and her jeans.  


The heavy crash of something hitting the ground made them nearly jump apart, hands still firmly locked around each other’s neck and waist. The chest Griffon had brought from the job was out of the van and now sitting on the ground, fully intact despite its rough drop. The boss herself sat perched on on the floor of the open van, legs dangling out of the vehicle as she wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. “Listen, I'm all for lady lovin’. Don't get me wrong. But if one of you would be kind enough to help me move this thing inside, that would be great. I got it out with the adrenaline rush but fuck, is it hard to move without that.”  


With a flustered look at the redhead, Barbara let go of her hips and went to help Griffon.  


She was soft when they kissed. In the months after their first, Barbara fell in love slowly with the way she felt. Meg had to lift herself up on her tiptoes to reach her girlfriend’s mouth, sometimes taking a fistful of Barbara’s shirt and tugging her down to meet her more easily. When they were alone she liked to sit up on the counter in Barbara’s apartment and pull her in close for kisses, either wrapping her legs around her or letting them swing absently. Then there were the stolen kisses during jobs. Their friends didn't care and they were hardly the only girls on the team who enjoyed the romantic company of women.  


But Meg was sharp in every other aspect of her life. It was visible in the way she walked, a confidence that Barbara wished she could have even a little bit of. She carried a gun on her at all times just in case something happened. As a backup, she always kept a knife somewhere. In the city they lived in, it wasn't uncommon to keep a little protection available in case you got backed into a corner. On top of the weapons, Meg also had the additional training of some basic hand to hand combat and the raw experience that came from working for Griffon’s Ladies.  


One night in particular stood out to Barbara when she thought about all of Meg’s sharp edges. It hadn’t originally started that way, in fact it had originally been a night where she saw one of the softer sides of Meg. They’d been living together for a couple months, Meg staying over longer and longer until Barbara just gave her a spare key over coffee. There wasn’t much of a change. Meg had previously been staying with Lindsay in the couch crashing sort of way, but since they started seeing each other she’d started sleeping over at Barb’s whenever she got the chance. Barbara didn’t mind. It made the empty apartment bearable for the first time since she got it.  


It was autumn. The trees in the city had shed their leaves a couple weeks before, the rain and dirt turning the colors into a moist brown mush that covered every sidewalk. The air had a chill in it and the two of them had stopped going out on dates because of it, instead sticking to their apartment. Mostly they watched Netflix while wrapped together tightly in a blanket. They really only left when Griffon called them about jobs, even then openly complaining about having to leave.  


It had been Meg’s idea to go out to the bar a couple blocks down just to shake things up. She’d even dressed up all nice for it. She wore a simple black shirt with one of Barbara’s leather jackets over it, a metallic silver miniskirt shining brightly as she spun for her girlfriend.  


“I feel like a disco ball,” Meg had said, graciously accepting Barbara’s hand and allowing the blonde to spin her around all fancy-like.  


“A really pretty disco ball.” Barbara had grinned at her, giving in to the idea of leaving their apartment. How could she say no to something as cute as that?  


In the end, it was fun. Neither of them were big drinkers but they enjoyed the atmosphere of the bar. It wasn’t a sleepy little thing or shady, it was a lively one where everybody knew each other. A football game played on the television and Barbara and Meg absently made comments about the players’ butts in between their laughter. Meg called Caiti in the middle of it, accidentally interrupting a double date with Jack and the Ramseys. Meg had apologized profusely to a Caiti who was almost completely unbothered while Barb snickered into her sleeve.  


It was a good date. When they were done, they threw on their jackets and said goodbye to some of the people in the bar before heading out. Barbara was a little more drunk than Meg but still fairly competent. The only problem she had was the slight blur at the edges of her vision, partially caused by alcohol and partially because she was ready to pass out from exhaustion. With Meg’s hand pressed gently against Barb’s elbow to steady her, it didn’t matter to Barbara. She had her girlfriend to catch her if she fell. That seemed cheesy, but the thought made Barbara incredibly happy every time it crossed her mind, cheese or not. She was ridiculously happy right up until she noticed the footsteps behind them.  


“Hey blondie,” a voice called out to them as they walked, making Meg turn slightly to look behind them. Barbara grabbed at her arm, trying to get her to look back in front of them. She wasn’t incredibly fond of dealing with street harassment (and she doubted any woman was) but she was incredibly familiar with it. Her methods weren’t alway the same, but usually she would just ignore them until they went away. Luckily for her (and them), there were rarely times in which Barbara had to get violent.  


These men, however, were not satisfied by the women ignoring them. He called again, voice heavy and slightly slurred. “You wanna come party with me and my friends?”  


“No,” she responded curtly, moving to put an arm around Meg as the men approached them. They were still walking, however the men were still walking faster than them. They could always run, but Barbara and Meg had both had a bit to drink and she didn’t trust herself not to trip over something. There was also the fact that she was scared she’d just start vomiting if she ran.  


“C’mon baby,” he slurred as he ignored her dismissal. They were almost on them now, and Barbara took a deep breath. For the first time, she turned to look at them. The first was lanky and dressed like one of those pricks who thought that a decent dress shirt and some fake gold jewelry made you the most attractive, irresistible person in the bar. They honestly hadn’t even noticed him and his friends while they were in there, but now that Meg and her were walking by themselves down an empty street with nothing but some parked cars and them behind them, it was really all they could notice. The man who called to them had two buddies. One had a scruffy ginger beard and a beanie pulled over his head, hands shoved into his pockets as he walked. The other was a fidgety, bulky man with a septum piercing who was otherwise completely unremarkable. “We can show you a good time.”  


“No,” she repeated again, now standing firmly in one spot. Meg had stopped by her, releasing her arm as they faced the three men. “Leave us be.”  


He slung his arm around Barbara’s shoulders, ignoring her stiffening posture and the way she started to lean away from him. More importantly, he ignored the way Meg’s eyes narrowed and the way her hands clenched up into fists at her side as he touched the blonde. Meg was small and feminine, all curves and soft skirts. People tended to dismiss her as harmless with a single sweeping look over her tiny frame. That tended to be a mistake roughly ninety percent of the time.  


“What do you say, baby?” He pressed his mouth close against Barbara’s cheek, heavy breathing making her face feel moist. His breath smelled stale and sour beneath the pungent odor of cheap beer, his hand locking firmly onto her arm. Barbara leaned back slightly, repulsed by the man touching her. “You and me and my friends can go have a little fun somewhere, huh?”  


Meg made a small cough. The man slowly dragged his gaze from Barbara down to the little redhead. Her eyes were dark with quiet anger. “Do you mind?”  


A lecherous smile spread across the man’s face as he ran his gaze up and down Meg’s body. The way he looked at her made something brew in the pits of Barbara’s stomach. She could deal with the men focusing in on her with their groping hands and revolting breath, but them turning their attention on Meg made her want to vomit all over their tennis shoes. The man crooned, releasing Barbara’s arm taking a step closer to the other woman with a hand outstretched to pull her in. “Oh, we can take good care of your girlfriend too. We _really_ know how to show dykes a good time.”  


There was a split second where Barbara seriously considered ending the encounter by breaking the arm that was slung around her shoulder possessively, kicking out his shins, and kneeing him directly in the nose. She honestly would've done it too, if not for the sudden spurt of blood that exploded from the man’s side as a bullet ripped through him. Meg, pistol still out in front of her, slowly moved the gun so it was aimed at one of the other men that had started to move to grab their friend who was currently bleeding on the floor where he’d fallen. A quick look at the man told Barbara that although Meg had shot him point blank with no remorse, she had made sure to shoot him in a way that would cause minimal damage. As long as his buddies got him into a hospital he would be fine.  


“Bitch is crazy,” the man with the scruffy orange beard hissed, hands moving up to indicate he had no intention of lashing back. The man with the septum did the same, glancing wildly between the gun in Meg’s newly manicured hand and his friend whimpering on the sidewalk. Meg offered them a small smile in return, her eyes still icy and angry.  


“Next time you're out harassing women, think about that time a five foot two lady in a miniskirt shot your ass for touching her girlfriend and just,” Meg paused, glancing down at the man on the ground but not lowering her gun. “Just don't be a piece of shit. Next person you fuck with might put a bullet in one of your skulls instead of your sides.”  


The two men still standing looked wild-eyed and terrified to move. Meg rolled her eyes then, dropping her gun to her side but still in her hand. “What are you two fuckos doing? Drag your buddy to a hospital or some shit. Unless you're just going to let him bleed out here or something. That would be just fine with me.”  


She gestured with a head tilt at the shaking man on the floor. Seeming to snap to their senses, the men edged over to their friend, not fully taking their eyes off of the two women in case they decided to shoot them while their backs were turned. Barbara couldn't help but smirk a little at that. They certainly weren't clean fighters, but even they wouldn't shoot somebody in the back while they were off the clock and the enemy had already been rendered useless. Usually. Barbara could tell that they were too drunk and scared to do anything now that Meg had put them in their place. It might've been wishful thinking, but she could've sworn the man with the septum had soiled himself.  


The men now busy with their friend, Meg turned back to Barbara. The cold look was gone, replaced by knitted eyebrows and a concerned expression. “Are you okay?”  


“The side of my face that he breathed on feels sticky,” she complained, reaching up to touch it.  


Meg’s face crinkled up in disgust. “Gross.”  


“Yeah,” Barbara agreed, dropping her hand and shoving it into the pocket of her jacket. “But I'm fine besides that.”  


Meg offered Barbara her arm, tucking her gun away in her own pocket. Feeling a bit like a lady who had just been saved from a (rather pitiful) dragon by a dashing knight in a shining miniskirt, the blonde gratuitously accepted, taking her little girlfriend’s arm firmly. It felt nice. Solid. Real. Meg smiled up at her, nose slightly pink from the cool autumn air.  


Nothing else but that smile mattered to Barbara. The little speckles of blood on her leather jacket were meaningless. The men they left on the street were a second thought. The harassment? A world away from them. The strange looks they sometimes got when they were together? Unimportant. All that mattered to her was the feeling of having her arm linked with Meg’s and the whiff of Meg’s shampoo that she caught as she leaned in and pressed a kiss to the other woman’s head as they walked home.  


At least, that's all that mattered for the first three hours after they got home. It was only when she woke up in her bed with Meg close to her that she felt it creep up on her; it was the fear. She felt it run through her body like a current of ice water. Despite her partner’s closeness, there was a split second where Barbara was sure that she was alone in her apartment and that Meg was just gone. It took a couple moments for her to register the soft breathing and curved back that was pressed against her in the dark as she shoved her moment of terror away from her.  


Meg had the sheets pulled over to her side, the excess of her cocoon bunched up in front of her. That left Barbara almost completely exposed to the cold apartment. Shaking from the temperature and just a little bit from fear, she scooted Meg closer to her. Having Meg’s butt against her hips and her arm wrapped tightly around the smaller woman’s waist didn't seem to make it better. She shoved her shivering feet under Meg’s blankets, bare legs entwining with Meg’s. One settled between the redhead’s, the other resting gently on top. It wasn't much, but it was better.  


When Meg made them coffee the next morning, Barbara didn't shake anymore. She was good at hiding it. She took the coffee from her and said thank you, holding the coffee between both her hands. She stared into the liquid, watching it spin around the mug in warm circles.  


“Are you sure you're okay?” Meg asked, sitting down across from her at the kitchen island. Barbara couldn't see her legs from where she sat, but she knew that Meg’s feet didn't touch the ground. It was the simplest, most endearing thing she had discovered in their domestic life. “You seemed okay last night but now you seem off.”  


“I just think you should be more careful who you shoot.” Barbara shifted in her seat, running her fingers through her mess of bed head. “I get that the guy deserved it--I'm not arguing that--but I think pulling a gun on somebody we can disable a different way is dangerous.”  


“He had his hands on you,” Meg replied wearily, taking a long drink of her own coffee. “He didn't stop. I made him stop.”  


“And I am extremely grateful,” Barbara reassured, reaching over to touch her girlfriend’s hand across the island. Her hand rested gently across the top of it, fingers curving to cup it reassuringly. “I'm even more grateful that you shot him in a way that wasn't lethal. I just think that shooting somebody is significantly worse than, say, knocking somebody out.”  


_Or kneeing somebody in the nose,_ she thought as she recalled her own instinct to get the man off of her and away from her partner.  


“I suppose.” Meg frowned back at her.  


“Gunshots attract attention. Attention causes trouble. I don't want to draw any attention to us or any other of Griffon’s Ladies. We have a good thing here, Meg.” Barbara bit her lip as she watched her girlfriend’s face. “I'm scared to lose it.”  


“To lose us,” Meg finished Barbara's unspoken thought quietly, eyes softening. Barbara gave a small nod and the redhead signed. She turned her hand over to lace her fingers through Barbara’s. “I’ll try to stop shooting people.”  


“Try?” Barbara raised an eyebrow.  


“In this city? With our jobs? Try is the best I can do.”  


Barbara knew she was right. The answer didn't stop her from feeling sick.


End file.
